


First Meeting

by Embracingtheplotbunnies



Series: New Targaryen Dynasty [2]
Category: game of thrones
Genre: Dragonstone, F/M, Minor, Season 7 Spoilers, Speculation on season 7, not instalove
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-23 02:09:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11393169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Embracingtheplotbunnies/pseuds/Embracingtheplotbunnies
Summary: Jon and Dany meet each other for the first time on Dragonstone, and each finds that the other is a very different person than the one they were expecting. They're not sure whether that's a good thing or a bad thing.





	First Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> Already posted on tumblr on my blog at blue-roses-in-a-wall-of-ice so you may have already read it there. It's a couple of weeks old, written a day or two after the second trailer drop. 
> 
> It's not as fluffy as many of you may like, but it's supposed to be their first meeting-I think they'd both be very wary and not sure what to think of each other, and I don't really like reading or writing instalove. As always, this takes place in the same universe as my other fics so there are slight deviations from canon. 
> 
> For those of you who haven't read any of my other fics before (I changed the reading order so my fics go at least somewhat more chronologically) all of my work is based on an unpublished prequel I wrote just after the end of season 5. It covered seasons 6-8, but because everything I was writing was speculation there ended up being a few changes (i.e. Sansa as Queen and Margaery is still alive) to canon. But I don't really want to change it because I don't have the time to make all of the edits necessary and it preserves my 'predictions' on how the show might end. Sorry for the confusion. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Game of Thrones or its characters; all rights to HBO and GRR Martin
> 
> Enjoy!

The water shone a greenish blue in the light of the setting sun as the first ships docked at Dragonstone harbor. Jon let his gaze follow it, across the thin line of sand and up the craggy cliffs to the stone castle overlooking it all. It was a massive fortress from some other time, backlit by sunlight-and he felt suddenly that he didn’t belong anywhere near it. This was a dragon’s stronghold, occupied by the last dragon queen-it wasn’t a place for wolves. 

Davos stood next to him on the slowly rocking deck, looking down at the small and thrown together fishing village near the edge of the harbor. A few curious people looked outside at them; Targaryen loyalists, mostly. Nearly every house had a three headed dragon hanging outside of it-the word was that the peasants saw her as a god. 

He had been hesitant to go and parley on his sister’s behalf. Like him, Sansa didn’t know what to make of the queen from the east, the Mad King’s daughter and the self styled Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Merchants ran a hot trade of rumors out of the Free Cities; she was the most beautiful woman on any continent, she’d destroyed Slaver’s Bay and renamed it the Bay of Dragons, she commanded an army of Unsullied and the former slaves of Old Ghis called her Mhysa. Some said she was a savior, others a demon, still others thought she bathed in the blood of virgins to keep her youth and others thought she was some kind of siren. It was hard to tell where the lies and exaggerations ended and the truth began.

She’d encouraged him to go because they needed more allies against the White Walkers and it would be better for them to negotiate now, while the danger wasn’t so imminent and they could still have a chance to make their own demands. And so he’d gone; he couldn’t say he wasn’t curious, especially about seeing dragons. 

He didn’t see any now; they must have been out hunting. But he could feel the wind off the water, threatening to knock him over as their small party disembarked and began the long, meandering walk up to the castle. A group of Unsullied guards met them at the outskirts of the village, checked them for weapons, and then led them up a winding gravel path that wound up to the castle. 

He and Davos barely talked, each absorbed in their own thoughts. But despite his nerves he had to admit that the island was beautiful-and so was the castle, in a way that made everyone aware of its own history and self importance. How much would it be different if it hadn’t been a Targaryen stronghold-if Aegon Targaryen and his fleet hadn’t docked in that very same harbor on their way to conquer Westeros? 

Tyrion Lannister met them at the door, dressed in a new black and red doublet. “It’s been a long time, Lord Snow,” he said as they approached, the door yawning open like the gaping maw of some long forgotten beast. “Last I heard, you were dead.”

Jon shrugged. “Last I heard, you were serving as Hand for a different ruler. I suppose we’ve both changed.” He gestured to Davos. “This is my trusted advisor, Ser Davos-the Onion Knight.” 

The two shook hands. “I trust your journey went well?”

“Yes, Lord Lannister,” Davos said. “A bit long, but nothing to report.” 

“Good. The Queen knows you’re here; she would like an audience first and then you’ll be free to unpack.” He led them into the front hall, which was large and drafty. Only a few wall sconces glittered balefully here and there, making Jon feel as though he was walking between pools of darkness. “You’ll have to excuse the mess; we’ve only just moved in and we haven’t had time to redecorate.” 

“That’s all right; Winterfell is a mess as it is.” They stood outside a pair of heavy double doors carved with the insignia of House Targaryen; Jon could only guess it was the main audience chamber. 

“Well, Lord Snow? Are you ready to meet the Queen?” 

He nodded and the doors opened, almost of their own accord. Two more Unsullied stood at attention, their faces nearly concealed by their masks; they barely looked at Jon as he walked in, boots echoing on the stone floor. The audience chamber was dark and dim; light filtered in from windows on one side of the room but the corners remained shrouded in darkness. Facing him sat an enormous throne, so large it almost took his breath away; it was a massive piece of stone, or maybe wood, cut in alternating patterns that almost made it look like a dragon wing. 

The queen sat perched atop her throne, sitting comfortably but carefully as she watched him approach. He allowed himself a moment to survey her quizzically; he wasn’t sure exactly what he’d been expecting, but she was different somehow. She was lovely, as he’d known she would be, but there was something about her that set her apart from nearly every other woman he’d ever met. It was in the way she carried herself confidently, secure in her own right to rule and role in the world-and she looked at him not as an inferior, but as an equal. “You’re Jon Snow.” It wasn’t a question, but her voice still held a hint of curiosity. 

He nodded. “Yes I am. I’m here to parley with you on behalf of Sansa Stark, the Queen in the North.”

“Good. I hope we can come to an agreement that is mutually beneficial for all parties.” He noticed that she looked him over carefully. “You’re not what I expected.”

He could have said the same for her, so he couldn’t help raising an eyebrow. “And what exactly were you expecting?” She was younger than he was; there was something almost childlike about her, something he rarely saw in Sansa. 

“I’m not sure.” She rose to her feet, smoothing down her long dark red dress, and stepped off the dais to meet him. Her shoes clicked on the stone floor; she was much shorter than he was. This also struck him as surprising; on her throne, she towered over everyone else. “Lord Davos, I presume?”

Davos gave a stilted bow. “Your Grace.” 

She nodded at him, but her eyes immediately flickered back to Jon’s. “I imagine you’re both hungry?” 

He shrugged, already feeling like he was boiling in all of his heavy furs. “I wouldn’t exactly be opposed.” 

And so she led them off, this very odd queen, and he found he had no choice but to follow her. 

 

Jon Snow ate his food carefully, as if afraid she had poisoned it. 

She cut into her chicken and ate another bite, not taking her eyes off of him. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him-or rather, she trusted her Unsullied-but he was such a strange variable that she wasn’t quite sure what to make of him. She hadn’t been expecting such a soft spoken, well mannered Northern liaison to argue on behalf of his sister. The stories that surrounded Lord Snow were so outlandish that she’d been expecting an outlandish man-but he seemed normal at first glance, if prettier than most men. “It’s a long journey from Winterfell.”

"It’s easier for two men than it is an entire retinue of soldiers,” Jon replied. Their conversation felt stilted; they were both on ground that felt completely unfamiliar. “And I don’t think Winterfell has the proper accommodations for dragons.”

“I’ve heard you have a wolf yourself. But I don’t see him with you.”

“I left him with my sister. He doesn’t like the heat.” 

“Understandable.” She glanced down the table at Tyrion and Davos, who had remained oddly silent. “Lord Tyrion tells me you’ve already met.”

“It was a long time ago, but yes. We did.” He met her eyes, unwaveringly. “I have to say, I’m surprised you’ve gone this long without asking me to kneel outright.” 

“I pride myself on being a very reasonable queen. You’re well mannered, so a show of force isn’t necessary.” Yet another thing that surprised him about her, she could tell. “Understand that my ultimate hope would be that your sister bends the knee, but I’m willing to negotiate.”

“Interesting.” He took a sip of wine and she found herself examining him from the corner of her eye. He was comely, she’d give him that. She’d be willing to guess that he’d left several crying girls behind when he left for the Wall, even if he wasn’t aware of it. 

But she wasn’t like that. She couldn’t afford to be like that, because she wasn’t a girl anymore. She was a queen-and he was an unknown entity she didn’t know how to approach, until she’d gotten a better measure of him.

They finished the meal in silence; Tyrion and Davos made attempts at conversation when it became clear Jon and Dany wouldn’t be talking to each other anytime soon, but everyone was relieved when the last of the plates were cleared away and the Northerners were shown to their rooms. Jon refused another round of wine and the evening ended extremely anticlimactically. Dany penned a quick letter to Sansa, explaining that her half brother had arrived safely and then she and Tyrion retired to her solar. Tyrion poured himself a glass but she refused; she didn’t have the taste for it that he did. 

“What did you think of him?” Tyrion asked. “Will we be going to war in the North and in the West?”

“I doubt it.” She laced her hands together and looked up at him. “You didn’t tell me that he was so-”

“Handsome? I thought I’d surprise you.”

She decided to ignore that. “I was going to say respectful.” 

“He takes after his father too much in that regard. It’ll be the death of him. Apparently it already was.” 

“Do you think he’s telling the truth?”

“About the Others? We shall see.”

“But what reason would he have to lie to us?”

He looked troubled. “I’m not quite sure.” 

It made her uneasy too. 

 

“She’s decidedly not insane.” 

“Well that makes our job much easier.” 

Jon looked out at the water, now a constantly shifting sea of black. His ship was still docked in harbor, ready to leave at a moment’s notice. “What did you think of her, Ser Davos? Can we trust her?”

“It’s up to you. In my honest opinion, she’s still quite young-a bit naive, but she doesn’t immediately strike me as someone who we have to worry about.” 

“She doesn’t believe in the Others.”

“Of course she doesn’t. You didn’t, until you saw one.”

“None of this matters if she won’t fight beside us.” 

“Give her time to come around. Sooner or later she’ll realize that the Great War really is here-and then it won’t matter whether she wants to fight beside us. She won’t have a choice.”

“I hope you’re right.”

They were silent for a minute, looking out at the night. It was too warm; Jon instantly regretted not packing more light clothing. He felt like he was boiling in his heavy Northern armor and suddenly he wanted nothing more than to be on his own to think things over. He was sure that if he stayed much longer Davos would bring up the Queen again and she was the last thing he wanted to think about. 

Mostly because he didn’t know what to think about her. “I’m going to bed. Negotiations start in the morning.”

“Good night, Lord Snow.” 

Jon felt a dim sense of foreboding as he left the room, wondering what exactly he’d gotten himself into and where they were going to go next.


End file.
